Firefly Lights
by The Demon Ledger
Summary: "Ron, he was- he was in an accident, please, hurry!" Hermione Weasley is discovering herself by mending her husbands broken mind and soul. Rated M for (mild) sex, violence, and a lot of swearing.
1. Chapter 1: Seeing Green

Chapter One: Seeing Green

Hermione looked out the window at the rain pouring on London. It wasn't unlike London, even for the middle of June, but it was frustrating. The traffic crawled along, a drawling pace just like any other work day. Her office sat in a Muggle district, where she worked as a "Social Worker" for the people that paced in and out of her mundane, square cubical daily. In reality, she worked with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures with the ministry, with the werewolves they'd written off as useless cases, too virile to control. She took them in, watched them turn into well standing citizens in the wizarding community, and it made her proud. Maybe all those years helping Lupin as a young girl weren't a waste after his death. She smiled at the thought that maybe she could've helped him too.

It was a tired Sunday, and Hermione was just about to pack up her case packs before heading down to her car in the parking lot. She enjoyed the act of driving, especially now the war was over and Muggles and Magic-Folk lived together in unbeknownst harmony. Her coworker Barb leaned around the frame of her door, a thick smile plastered to her pinched features.

"Headin' out, 'Mione?" She said, voice heavy with her northern accent. Hermione nodded, yawning as Barb giggled. The older woman nodded to herself before grinning brightly again at Hermione. "Wanna go out tonight? Me and some girls are getting some drinks down at the pub 'round the street."

"I have to get home," Hermione said in a soft voice. "My husband…" she trailed off, looking down at her left hand, where her rings still sat loosely on her ring finger.

"Right." Barb nodded again. "Well, see you then, 'Mione." She left quickly, face darker than it had been when she'd entered. Hermione finished gathering her work, eyes filling with tears.

It had been a hard few years since the war. Hermione had gone back to Hogwarts after everything, while Ron and Harry had joined the Auror's straight off. After a quick wedding and some time away from his family, Hermione and Ron had ended up settled in Tower Hamlets, close to Canary Wharf where Hermione worked. Ron made the early morning and late night commute no trouble until recently, when the accident had happened.

She parked her car in the large parking lot of their flat, sitting back for a moment with her hands over her face. It wasn't as if she wanted to turn down all of the nice and welcoming gestures her coworkers had offered her over the last few months, but Ron didn't have good days often enough anymore to be left alone. Sometime Harry or Ginny stopped by to help her, as if taking care of a child, but more often than not these days, she was alone. A light sob came from her; Hermione leaned her forehead against the top of her steering wheel, unsure how to escape her waking, living nightmare. The rain had stopped, she noticed. Hermione clambered out of the car, swearing slightly as she dropped one of her folders on the still damp ground. For all the good she was doing with these men and women, even a few children, she couldn't help her own husband.

She glanced up at their flat's large, blinded window, catching Ron peeking through the slats at her. A smile grew on her face - he was up and about today, a rare occurrence; maybe he was starting to feel a bit better.

Not but a few moments later, heaving deep breaths from the four flights of stairs, Hermione turned the latch to her apartment, opening the door slowly as she knew Ron would be right behind it. A light smile found his face when he saw her; good news. But it was quickly replaced by a look of discomfort as she entered the door, ladened down with a bag of groceries she'd stopped for on the way and her endless amount of paperwork.

"You didn't have to bring food home, 'Mione, there's tonnes here." He said quietly, taking the bag from her. A surprised look crossed her face at his easy tone and the use of the nickname he'd imparted to her long ago. "But thank you." He turned to her after setting the bag on the table next to the kitchen. "We should talk." It sounded serious, more serious than she'd heard him in a few weeks.

"What about, love?" she asked, setting down a few files as she made her way to the bedroom to change out of her work clothes. She shut the door between them, feeling too overwhelmed to have his carnal eyes watching her as she worked herself out of the nude tights and button up shirt. She shimmied her tightly fitting skirt down, letting it flop in a loose pile on the floor. "Ron?" He cleared his throat heavily, and she felt the weight of his next words before he even said them.

"You're working yourself too hard. I think I'm ready to go back to work." His words came out slightly mumbled through the wooden door between them. Ron coughed as he knocked on the door. "Can I please come in?" there was a whine in his voice. She felt confused.

"How are you so much better today?" she asked, opening the door to him. She had her robe wrapped around herself, and went about picking up the clothes she'd strewn over the ground and bed.

"Dunno. I just woke up and everything felt okay." he shrugged, noticing when she wouldn't look at him. "This isn't a fluke like last time, 'Mione, I promise. I won't leave you again." He took her up in his arms, blue eyes meeting deep brown. "I love you." Hermione blushed and looked away, tearing up from words she hadn't heard in so long. It was almost as if he was the same man he had been before the accident.

"We should go to the hospital," she said, pulling away. Her love for Ronald had never faded, but she still felt hollow and empty from the vacant looks and thinly veiled insults he'd thrown at her when he'd been really bad. "Make sure you're really okay." He nodded his consent, drawing himself through the bedroom door.

"I'll leave you to get dressed. We can go after supper." He murmured, disappointment haunting his voice. "If that's not too late."

"No," she replied, "that's fine." He pulled the door behind him, leaving it only slightly ajar to let the warm in from the livingroom. She changed into street clothes, jeans and a pull over jumper she usually only wore around the house. She pulled her thick hair up into an even thicker bun, regretting her decision not to chop it all off when she had to stay home and care for Ron. He stood in the kitchen, knife working quickly as she paced back to the table to get to work on a particularly tough case of a mother and child who'd both been attacked by the same werewolf years ago and were fighting to stay together. Hermione herself thought the union was unwise, but what was she to know? Children weren't an option for them anymore, not with Ron as unsure and violent as he had been.

"What's for dinner?" she asked, trying to force a touch of happiness into her voice - it came out sounding fake and pressed.

"Um…" Ron sounded slightly concerned, a laugh in his voice. "I'm not sure. Just kinda throwing stuff together."

"Sounds good." Hermione went back to the task at hand, not wanting to bother him, though she knew she should be keeping an eye on him, especially with a knife in his hand. She smiled secretly to herself, hoping he really was better and that there wouldn't be any problems at the hospital later this evening.

"How was work?" Ron asked, leaning around the kitchen door as a pan sizzled and popped on the stove. Hermione shrugged, brow furrowing at the sight of a clerical error she'd have to chastise Barb for the next day. She made a note with her pen, scratching out the number to replace with the correct one.

"You know I'm not allowed to talk about it." This much was true - all Ministry duties were strictly private, especially those of such a sensitive nature as hers. But she'd always let him in on some of the more excruciating cases, such as this case with the family. "Well…" She felt guilty, keeping so much from him after all of this mess.

"No, if you're not allowed, then don't." his voice was hard suddenly.

"Ron." her voice has a slight whine in it, and she got up to pull a bottle of Muggle beer out of the fridge, popping the top with her wand lazily.

"What? Sorry I can't be trusted with your prized secrets, 'Mione. Not back to myself until I go see the Healer right? Can't be trusted 'til I'm fully appraised by those we trusted with me in the first place!" He throws his arms up, growing angrier by the minute. "Why can't you just trust _me_ , Hermione?"

"Because, Ronald, it's not a matter of trusting or distrusting you. It's about your safety." She decided it was best not to add that she was scared shitless to go to bed with him and wake up with hands crushing her trachea again.

"And what? You don't wanna sleep in the same bed as me unless you know rightly that it's safe?" he scoffed, practically reading her mind.

"Is that unreasonable?!" she trembled slightly, anger bringing out the worst in her.

"Is it unreasonable that my feelings are hurt?" he countered, glaring daggers at her. She took a long swig from her beer, face curling at the unusual taste.

"No." she walked away from him, eyes filling with tears that refused to fall. He heaved a deep sigh, turning back to the task at hand. He didn't know what he was doing, simply throwing shit in a pan and watching it cook, hoping for the best. This brought a chuckle to his throat, reminding him of how Hermione seemed to be acting the past few months. Throwing things at him, hoping he'd figure it out eventually. Everything had seemed to click into place this morning when he woke, and he wasn't quite sure why it'd taken him so long to finally figure everything out.

"'Mione…" he said, leaning around the corner. "I'm sorry." She shrugged in response, not looking up. "C'mon, look at me please?" She looked up without lifting her head, a dark and oppressive look he'd received many times in the past. "I love you, 'Mione. You did good. And you're right. Should get checked out, 'specially if I wanna go back to work."

"You're not going back to work." she muttered.

"What?" he asked, head cocking slightly to the side. "Why not?"

"Because I said so." she replied, getting up and walking away from him again. She didn't want to have the work talk right now, not in his still fragile state and the head space she was in.

"That's not a reason, Hermione."

"Look, Ron, I don't want to fight right now. I want to finish working on this stupid case about this stupid woman and her stupid child. And then I want to eat dinner and then I want to go to St. Mungo's and make sure you're okay. I don't want to talk about work. But you're not going back there. No. I won't allow it." She looked down at her feet, slightly embarrassed by her suddenly intense feeling of protection.

"Okay. Food's 'bout ready." he walked sullenly back into the kitchen, pulling down plates and glasses before laying them out on the table full of food. They'd agreed early on, before his lucid states started getting less and less frequent that it might be best to take his wand, just in case. She still had it locked away in her sock drawer, unsure of what to do with it. They ate in silence, not looking at each other. When they'd finished, they each in turn got up and washed their plate, as was usual for them now. Ron changed out of his lounging clothes quickly and within minutes they were in the car and on their way to St. Mungo's.

The ride wasn't long, with it being late and Hermione knowing the way by heart. Ron carefully climbed out of the passengers seat once they were parked outside the unusual looking store front. Hermione, however, stayed in the car for an extra moment, waiting until he was on the sidewalk to exit. After a few calming breaths, he appeared in front of her door, gesturing for her to get out. She could see his anxiety building.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Hermione?" he glances around through his words, eyes casting as always back to her.

"This is the best idea." nodding, they climb through the window, unseen by passing Muggles. He laughs once they're inside, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. She smiles at the sound, having been so long since he had.

"Ronald Weasley here to see Doctor Agora." says Hermione to the receptionist.

"Oh, yeah, she's out now." said the receptionist. "Be back in the morning." Hermione cursed. "If you want, her assistant is in, you can probably talk to him."

"Yes, let's talk to him." said Ron, bouncing rapidly on the balls of his feet. The receptionist nodded and paged Doctor Whelms as Hermione shot Ron a look. "I've met the guy. He's good. He knows what he's doing." Hermione rolled her eyes, planning on judging his ability for herself. A young man, not much older than she was, rounded the corner, a smile bursting onto his face as he saw Ron and Hermione.

"Ron! You're back! I didn't expect to see you so soon. Are you doing okay? Did something happen?" Doctor Whelms turned suddenly pale, and then turned to Hermione. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Oh," said Hermione, laughing nervously and shaking her head. "No- Er, I mean... everyone is okay. It's just... Ronald, he… Is there a private place we can all sit down?" Doctor Whelms gave a quick nod and smiled again, motioning towards the stairs. They followed, and, for the first time in months, found their fingers winding together once more.

 _A/N: I hope you enjoyed the beginning of this story. It's been a really long time since I've written a HP ff, almost four years I suspect. I really appreciate any support. Please review/favorite/follow if you enjoyed. 3 have a good day lovies. ~B_


	2. Chapter 2: You and Yours

A/N: I've heard people want more of this story. Who am I to refuse? I don't exactly remember where I was going with it. Why not just hope for the best?

Please remember to review, favorite and follow if you like. Thanks~ Happy reading. ~B

* * *

Chapter Two: You and Yours

Hermione stared while Ron spoke animatedly about his current condition, what he'd done that day while Hermione had been at work, how he'd woken to see the sky as grey but not terrifying, the sound of the cars humming instead of screaming. Her heart jolted and raced in her chest; maybe he was finally settling back into his own mind. She could never be sure, could never help but dance around the idea of hope. Ron looked at her, mouth still moving, and then he paused and cocked his head to the side. Hermione realized she'd been absently staring at him since he'd begun to talk to Doctor Whelms.

"Sorry, what?" she asked. The doctor laughed and clasped his hands around his crossed knee.

"I asked if you've noticed anything different lately, any new moods, new words, if he'd been opening the curtain more." Hermione thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"Could be and I hadn't noticed, I've been pretty preoccupied lately." she said, heat rushing up her face.

"No worries, it's understandable. Bills to pay and all, right?" The doctor turned back to Ron. "Now, I want you to try to remember what happened, okay Ronald?" Hermione put her hand out, mouth opening as if to talk, but he forestalled her with a gentle pat on her outstretched fingers. "All part of the therapy."

Ron closed his eyes, then pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. "An alley and then a flash of light and suddenly I was here." he looked at Hermione. "And there's a lot I don't remember in between then and now, and a few things I wish I didn't."

The rest of the exam was purely physical. A few spells to make sure his brain wasn't still addled by dark magic of some sort, purchasing a few sleeping draughts to help with the nightmares, and a self help leaflet for Ron to 'get him back on his feet and talking to people'. Hermione escorted him out of St Mungo's and back to the car. His hand clutched hers tightly, and she pried her fingers from his as she got into the car. He closed the door behind her and went round to his side, climbing in and buckling up quickly.

"Why do I feel like that wasn't the same kind of healer appointment we'd experienced in the past?" asked Hermione, voice stiff.

"What would you've expected it to be like?" Ron questioned, eyebrows raised. Hermione rounded the corner and sped down the motorway that would take them back home. She shook her head, looking in the mirror as she merged with the speeding traffic. Ron tapped his fingers against the dashboard, humming to himself.

"What do you remember from the last year, Ronald?" she whispered.

"Not much. The stuff I do remember I…" he paused.

"I know." she said. "I love you, Ron." They pulled into the car park outside of their flat and made their way out. Hermione let Ron exit the car first, as she always did, and her eyebrows folded when he didn't. He sat still, then turned towards her and looked at her, eyebrows furrowed and hands clutched in his lap.

"Tell me something, 'Mione." he said, eyes searching her face.

"What's that?"

"What happened to me?" he asked.

Hermione looked at him then shook her head, laughing a little. "No." she said, getting out of the car. "Not tonight, no way." Ron sat very still, watching her leave. She slammed the door behind her, keys jingling in her hand, and made her way to the entrance to their apartment. Ron's door finally closed as she was fumbling with her keys. Her heart was racing. She hated him being behind her, didn't trust him still, so when one of his hands came to rest on her hip, she jumped and squeaked. Ron pretended not to notice, just leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"I'm sorry." he whispered.

"No, please, don't be," Hermione replied. She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. Ron made his way in first and Hermione shut it behind her, letting the lock click once again in the latch. They made their way slowly up the four flights of stairs to their apartment, Hermione handing Ron the key as they approached the door. She was so tired she could've fallen asleep leaning against the wall outside the flat. Ron turned the key in the lock, and the door swung open. He scooped her up into his arms, causing Hermione to yelp. The keys jingled as they were thrown onto the table and the door slammed as Ron shut it with his foot. Hermione looked at Ron, a laugh bubbling from her throat while her face was etched with confusion. He shook his head, allowing her to wrap her hands around the back of his neck. Making his way to the living room, he layed her on the couch, kneeling next to her while she scratched the back of his head gently.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione." he said again, this time more audible than the first time. He pressed his face into her neck, and she sighed.

"I know." she whispered, hands clinging to his head and shoulders.

"I love you."

"I know." she replied.

"Will you keep me 'round, then?" he said with a hint of laughter. She shoved him gently on the shoulder, then pulled him over her. Her heart raced in her chest, hands shaking as she brought them around his neck. Her eyes closed. His lips touched hers.

* * *

The dream was the same as it always was. The atrium, brightly lit and overwhelming, reporters shouting, Aurors running rampant through the crowd of people, trying to control the din. Harry yelling at Kingsley. Kingsley yelling at everyone else. Herself flooded with tears and pressed against Ginny's chest. She hadn't known the risk - if she had, perhaps she would've stopped him. But instead, she was here, sobbing, laying on the cold, marble-tiled floor, rasping breaths coming gutturally from her as if pulled out by force. Her throat tight, hands shaking. She could feel the pain, feel her angry fists beating the hard floor. She could feel it. It was real.

* * *

Hermione woke with a start. Ron had moved her to the bed, where he laid next to her, fast asleep, one set of his fingers tucked into hers, the other tangled in her hair. She looked up at him, the peaceful look on his face the first she'd seen in months. She hummed quietly to herself and moved up the bed to lay her head on his shoulder. He grunted in his sleep and curled her closer to him as his eyes fluttered open. "Hey," said Ron.

"Hi." replied Hermione. "I like seeing you peaceful."

"Yeah?" His face moved towards hers, so his long nose touched hers lightly. "I like being close to you again." She hummed.

"Yeah." Her eyes still felt heavy, though the temperature of the light coming through the window meant it was early in the morning. "I should get up. I really need to work on this case." Ron nodded and released her. She was still in her jeans and jumper from the night before. She kneeled on the end of the bed, cocked her head, and stared at him. "I love you." she said. "I missed you." Ron nodded, then looked abashed. He beckoned her towards him and she crawled across the bed, resting her chin on her crossed hands atop his chest. He stared at her, then pulled her up by the crook of her leg she'd hooked across him, so she sat on top of him, staring at him.

"Yeah?" he said as she gasped in surprised.

"We shouldn't." said Hermione.

"We're married." he replied.

"That doesn't mean we should-" Hermione said sternly.

"Hermione." Ron stopped her. She crossed her arms and huffed. "I might not know if I'm completely okay again. But I can promise that I at least think I am." Hermione cocked one eyebrow. "I just…"

"Ron, I'm sorry, but I really need to get ready to go to work. I want to, truly, but I can't be late again." Ron looked at her with a little disappointment crossing his expression, but then he nodded and allowed her to clamber off of him. He smiled at her, all traces of disappointment having vanished from his face. She stepped off the bed and stretched, feeling the hem of her shirt lift up off the small of her back. Ron's fingers trailed there for a moment, and she looked back at him. Her heart hammered as she remembered the last time he'd done that, how he'd looked fine, for days even, then fallen asleep next to her. She'd woken up with his weight crushing her and had to stun him off of her. She glanced at Ron, and the expression that crossed his face told her that he knew exactly where her mind had gone.

"Get ready. I'll go make breakfast." He said without looking at her. He slipped past her and shut the door, not quite all the way. The sounds of him clamoring around in the kitchen brought a heaviness to her chest, and, very suddenly, she was crying.


	3. Chapter 3: How Far

A/N: Thanks for your reviews. Keep it up, please! Even the critical ones help me to develop a good story. This is a hard one because it's off-cannon, but not enough that I can just go completely crazy. Well, you'll see a new character in today.

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to review, follow, and favorite if you enjoyed. ~B

* * *

Chapter Three: How Far

Molly Weasley sat in her large kitchen, a letter clutched in her shaking hand. Of course, she knew this day would come. She'd always believed in her son. She'd even helped him get home to be with Hermione, had helped Hermione in those first few weeks, even few months. She came and sat with him and held his hand while he shielded his eyes from the dark skies and his ears from the tumult of noise outside the flat. Eventually, he turned on her as well, in a rage of spitting and yelling and a whole great lot of slamming doors. She'd stayed away after that, by a urgent request from Hermione to 'keep herself safe, no matter how hard it was right now'. Molly knew Ron would need her, in the end. That he'd get better and need his mother's helping hand. Now the letter from Hermione shook as great sobs cascaded from her chest. Arthur Weasley came running into the room, one sock on, the other dangling from his fingers, robes askew.

"What is it, Molly?" asked Arthur, pulling her into a sweeping hug. She cried for a moment into his shoulder.

"It's Ronald." she said, a quiver to her voice. "Hermione - s-she says he-he's getting better, s-says he's almost back to normal."

There was a calm in the room for a moment, wherein Molly heard the meaning of her words and sucked in great, heaving breaths to ready herself, and Arthur felt a fleeting sensation of anxiety coupled with relief before he leant over to pull on his other sock.

The rest of the day was spent rearranging the house, cleaning up a spare bedroom that had once belonged to Charlie, welcoming in Ginny and Harry, who had agreed to hang around for a few days until things settled back down. Hermione and Ron were scheduled to apparate in at about two in the afternoon, leaving them with just enough time to set the table, wash the bedclothes, and get lunch started. A bubbling pot of stew had just been set to simmer over the stoves magical flame when a pop sounded from the yard and Molly came bustling out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Is that them?" she whispered to Arthur.

"I think so." he replied quietly. The sound of Harry's loud and boisterous greeting set the parent's teeth on edge, until they heard a familiar laugh and -

"Ron, mate, it is good to see you again." yelled Harry as he bounded across the yard to the place where Ron and Hermione stood. Ron looked disoriented for a moment, then looked up, a grin plastered to his face.

"Harry!" cried Ron, laughing at the sound of his louder than normal greeting. They hugged tightly. Hermione and Ginny walked towards each other.

"How's it been?" whispered Ginny beneath the loud voices of the boys. Hermione shrugged, question hanging heavy in the air between them.

"I love him. I've done what I can, but it was difficult without Molly, without you both." she replied.

"You know we didn't care, we could've helped."

"And if anything went wrong, he would've gotten locked in St Mungo's for who know's how long, and may not have ever recovered." Hermione said, an edge to her voice.

"Yeah." said Ginny quietly. "I see your point. Well, needless to say, I'm glad to see him healthy, even if he isn't completely back to himself."

"I don't know where he is." Hermione said. "It's hard to tell. One minute he's having a conversation with me, and the next he's forgotten what he was saying and can't continue."

"But, by the looks of it, he's gotten over the majority of whatever was wrong?" asked Ginny as they began to walk slowly behind the boys and towards the house. Hermione looked down at her trainers, muddied from the uneasy landing here at the Burrow, a little ragged from being worn every day. She shrugged, indecisive.

"I'm not sure what was wrong to begin with. I know his Healer said his brain was addled by the faulty Imperius, but it should've cleared off much faster than it did. He was like that for almost a year." said Hermione.

"Everyone's different." said Ginny. They paused, watching as Ron stopped in front of his mother and father, eyes wide. He leapt up the last two stairs, pulled both of them into a hug, and (from what Hermione could tell) started crying. "Seems normal enough to me."

Hermione nodded, but felt uneasy. She knew Ginny was right; everyone healed differently. She saw this whenever Ginny swept a hand over the back of Harry's head during a conversation to keep him focused, or when Hermione, herself had to squeeze her hands into fists whenever a car backfired. Ronald was different from them in a lot of ways; he managed to keep all of his panicked intricacies from the war locked up and to himself. His outlet was work; pouring himself into catching the Death Eaters that had evaded capture seemed to be a sort of catharsis for him. She couldn't keep Ronald from working just as he couldn't keep her from continuing to petition for House Elfish rights. It was just not right.

"I'm being selfish, trying to do all of this myself." Hermione whispered to Ginny as they entered the house behind Harry and Arthur.

"Not selfish, no. But it's not good for you. You don't look well." Ginny's concerned eyes scoured her face before she continued on, "I worry, we both worry, Harry too."

Hermione smiled and nodded a little sadly. She glanced over at her husband, who socialized actively with his father and mother, both of them asking him questions and fawning over him. Harry stood against the fireplace, looking between Ron and the floor. Ginny took Hermione by the arm and brought her into the conversation.

"And then, I woke up, and I felt great! Well, not great, not really, because my head is still foggy and everything is way too bright, but… well… here I am, right?" said Ron with a sort of finality. Hermione laughed.

"Oh!" said Molly, jumping up, "I just remember I have a big pot of stew on for lunch. You will be staying a few days, won't you?" Molly looked at Ron, and then to Hermione.

"Well, that's sort of up to Ron. What do you want to do?" Hermione asked of him. He shrugged, as she had expected him to, but sat up a little straighter and looked to his mother. There was a glimmer in his eye, childish and mirthful, one Hermione hadn't seen for months. It warmed her tip to toe.

"Yeah, I wanna stay, if you don't mind too much, 'Mione." He said, looking back at his wife, suddenly bashful. Ginny leaned in to whisper something to Harry, and he nodded.

"We'll stay too, if you ne- want." Harry said with a grimace. Hermione had noticed the swift prode Ginny had given him with her foot.

"Sure!" said Ron, "It'll be like old times. All of us, in my mum and dad's house, one last summer." He looked between Harry and Ginny. "When are you two getting married, anyway?"

* * *

Hermione hadn't laughed this much in months. Her stomach, full of food, ached with the strain of it. Ron was cheerful and boyish, his grins wide and his voice as loud and language colorful as she had ever remembered it to be. He'd gone out into the yard with his father to look at the new wall, and Hermione turned to Harry. He was wearing a look of deepest concern, and cocked his head to the side when their eyes met.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked gently.

"You tell me." she replied. Harry shrugged, sighing.

"I can't tell." Harry paused and looked at Ginny, talking with her mother in the kitchen. "There's a lot we don't know about what happened. Avery was one of the multitudes of Death Eaters that was released with that 'Wellness Will Be' program we all helped to institute. And he won't give away any more information than we already have."

"Can't we just use-"

"Veritaserum, yes, but in the grand scheme of things, the fact that he was going to Imperius Ron for some sort of Death Eater revival party doesn't really teach us anything except that they're fucking morons." replied Harry seriously. Hermione sighed.

"You're right." she said.

"Okay. Then, what I want you to do, is figure out how to get more comfortable with Ron. He needs you." Harry cleared his throat and looked away. "I just want the best for you both. You're my best friends." Hermione nodded and rose, wrapping her arms around herself and stepping into the back yard. Arthur Weasley was speaking animatedly to his son, who listened with rapt attention. Hermione sidled up next to Ron, who looked down with a smile and tucked his arm over her shoulder, rubbing her arm gently.

"And so now, we're going to expand the house out front a little, just to take some of the pressure off the top. Should be nice and simple! Muggles do it this way all the time," Arthur held up a hammer victoriously and a sheath of blueprints, "why not wizards?"

"Mr Weasley," said Hermione, stifling a giggle. "I don't think that's exactly a good idea." Ron laughed a little into her hair and turned away from his father.

"Well, why not?" asked Arthur, bemused.

"Do you know anything about Muggle construction, Mr Weasley?" Hermione extricated herself from under Ron's arm, reaching out to take the hammer gently from Arthur's grip as he looked, disappointed, off into the distance.

"Well, I suppose I don't." he replied with a chuckle. "You're welcome to help anyway, Ron, we could always use another set of hands." Ron nodded, and they all went back inside. Hermione's hand found Ron's, and as she clutched it, she smiled up at him.

"I love you." she mouthed furtively, as if secretly. He smiled.

"I love you, too." Ron leaned down, kissing Hermione. She leaned her head against his chest, breathing deeply to quell her hammering heart. Everything would heal over time, she had to keep reminding herself that it would.

"So," Ron started, "for the last time, when the bloody hell are you two getting married? Because I think, at this point, we could all use a little bit of happiness." Hermione, Harry and Ginny laughed, while Molly burst into tears of joy and Arthur had to hug her just to get her to calm down.

* * *

A/N: I hope you liked this chapter. The next chapter will be pretty in depth as to what happened and why Hermione specifically is so on edge around him. See you next time! ~B


	4. Chapter 4: Unforgivable

_A/N: I know I suck at getting things published consistently, but life has been weird and overwhelming lately. School is a lot, life is a lot, work is a lot (although I don't have to do much of that now). I'll try to publish as often as possible, but no promises and I'm so sorry._

 _Please remember to favorite, follow and review. I'll update when I can, and when you follow you'll always know when that happens._

 _*Disclaimer: I don't own anything belonging to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros, or other such companies charged with the ownership or part ownership of the Harry Potter Franchise. The ideas are all, or mostly, mine, more or less cannon, and try to remain faithful to the series itself.*_

 _ **Another note: I changed the dream bit in the second chapter to mesh a little better with this one, since it wasn't exactly congruent and I had an idea that made it a little more visceral. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it.**_

* * *

Chapter Four: Unforgivable

[Ten Months Ago]

In a dark alley, made darker by the eerie quality of the streetlights flickering just off the lane, Ronald Weasley slunk down it, though he was unseen by anyone in the near area. The disillusionment charm he'd set upon himself was sufficient enough to camouflage him against the tattooed and graffitied wall he'd pressed himself against. For one sinking moment, he wished he'd had the foresight to borrow Harry's invisibility cloak. He shrugged off his fear, then, skirting around the corner, gripped his wand tighter. There he was - Avery, hooded and speaking rapidly to another hooded man. Ron had his suspicions to whom it was, but he couldn't be sure without proof. Proof, he'd been shown, was the strongest indicator of undoubtable guilt. The proof of Avery's treachery, trickery, and fall back into the old ways was right in front of his eyes. He pressed up against the wall and aimed his wand, stunning spell formed on his lips.

A fog absorbed him, and something like a whisper etched itself into the inside of Ron's skull, telling him to do awful things. Was he going crazy? His heart hammered, the fog did not resolve. He could feel his body moving. _**Listen.**_ There was the voice again. _**Do as I say.**_ Ron shook his head; he couldn't tell if he was real anymore. _**You're an Auror at the ministry. Go to the ministry and kill the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt.**_ Ron shook his head harder. _**DO IT.**_ His hands shook, his whole body shook. He could feel hard ground beneath his feet, then beneath his knees and the heels of his hands. He pounded it with his fists. _**You worthless**_ pain like Ron had never felt shot through him _**piece of**_ and his ribs felt like they would split open _**garbage, you**_ and he could feel something pushing his skull into the ground _**fucking blood-traitor how dare you call yourself a wizard DO AS I SAY**_ but Ron's skull was going to explode. It was going to burst like a blister and his brains would go everywhere and he couldn't care because at least it would end the pain that threatened to completely overtake him.

The Ministry's great golden gates were looming through the fog, but he didn't know how he got there. Ron couldn't control his body, couldn't control the thrashing that was going on inside him. He felt like he was being watched, eyes all over him, sweat pooling in his palms and running down the back of his head. He fell to the ground again, but something pulled him up, some invisible hand. His brain was almost certainly on fire. He could hear a voice - his own voice? - inside his head. It was screaming. He was screaming, sound pressed out from his chest and echoing through the open atrium, disappearing down the lifts and bouncing off the dark, marble walls. Running footsteps. The fog vanished but the struggling, the writhing didn't stop. Ron could feel his body moving, like a cavalcade of anger and hoarse voices; those footsteps from earlier had stopped. He could feel the eyes and he screamed louder. Hands reached out to touch him, and he grabbed them. Eyes, bright green, met his and they were all he could see.

"Kill me."

* * *

The uproar of the atrium burned in Hermione's ears. She sprinted down the hall which separated the fireplaces from the airy, high-ceilinged room where people clamored and shouted for attention and words were spoken but not addressed. Harry stood central, screaming in the face of the minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Why the HELL did you send him alone?!" said Harry. Hermione's hands shook as she pressed through the crowd - it didn't try to stop her, just opened up for her like a parting sea and even though she could barely breathe, she clutched at her sister-in-law desperately, hungrily, hoping for some sort of explanation, a justification for her clenched stomach and weak knees. But there was not. She knew that even as she stood with a heaving chest, watching Harry lose his temper more forcefully than perhaps in years.

"Weasley was perfectly capable of handling this on his own," replied Kingsley in his same, low voice.

"THE HELL HE WAS!" replied Harry in a bellow. He made a noise Hermione had never heard, somewhere between a groan and an agonized cry. She could hear his tears but couldn't see them. Some part of her didn't want to.

"He will be okay. He's at St. Mungo's right now." Kingsley spoke softly, despite Harry's yells.

"You didn't see him. You didn't hear his voice. You don't know, do you? He asked me to kill him. He screamed and thrashed and sent curses everywhere. He's locked up. YOU. DIDN'T SEE. HIM." Hermione had fallen to the ground now, hands shaking. She quaked and rocked and sobbed ruthlessly. Ginny tried to comfort her, rubbed slow circles into her back and shushed her softly. But there was no comfort in the touches Hermione received. They felt like pity, tore into her with anguish. She pounded the ground, she screamed, but her voice was not heard over the sounds of the others in the great and crowded hall. Ginny stood, reached out to Harry, but he yanked his arm away. "You don't get it, Minister. You don't get to throw people into things they're not ready for. Send people out there to catch the bastard who did this, send yourself, see if I fucking care."

Harry stormed down the corridor that faced the atrium and disappeared into one of the fireplaces, green flames swallowing him whole.

* * *

It was three full weeks before Hermione was allowed to see her husband face-to-face. She'd seen him through the window in his room - a room that looked a lot more like a cell. She'd seen him in her dreams, his smiling, happy face. As she walked into that room, she thought she would like nothing more than to never see him again. Her heart sank further than it had in the last three weeks when she sat across from him and he screamed at her the inadequacies he faced daily with her as his wife. She wanted to run away.

* * *

It was four months before she was allowed to bring him home without aides. Molly and Arthur had been by every day for the first three weeks, but once Ron started throwing things at them as they'd walked through their front door, Hermione had insisted it was safer for them to stay at home. Ginny came to check on him while Hermione was at work, just to say hello and try to keep him away from the windows. Harry could barely look at him. Hermione still wanted nothing more than to run away.

* * *

After about six months, Hermione thought they were in the clear. Ron had gone from bad to worse then began to smile and went to St Mungo's without much coercion. He had began to sleep in the same bed as her, Hermione only waking up once or twice in a night instead of hourly. The feeling of hopelessness was slipping away. She wanted less and less every day to escape.

* * *

Suddenly, as if waking from one nightmare into another, Hermione couldn't breathe. She could feel her lungs fighting to expand, lips spluttering and eyes bulging. She opened her eyes after a moment of panic, realizing she was no longer asleep, this was real, and the hands pressing into her throat were her husband's. Hermione groped desperately for her wand, which lay on her nightstand. Ron muttered with dark eyes boring into hers. A terrified look of comprehension overtook him as she groaned as loudly as she could, reaching farther than her arm could really stretch, and Ron rolled off of her. Hermione gulped in great, heaving breaths, and she staggered off the bed, sobbing and clutching her neck.

"Hermione," said Ron quietly. She shook her head and sobbed harder, the motion of it raking her throat painfully. She groaned again, falling to the floor as she grabbed her wand off her nightstand. "Hermione," said Ron again as he came around the other side of the bed, kneeling down next to her.

"N-no!" she moaned, scrabbling away from him. The door was slightly ajar and she slid through it, the feeling of the short shag carpet scraping against her legs as she went. "N-no."

"Please, I-" he reached out for her again.

"D-" Hermione sobbed harder, still moving as quickly away from him as she could. "Don't t-touch me." She stood, staring at him as he looked at her from the doorway of the bedroom with tears streaming down his face, shoulders curled into his chest as if he was wilting. "Stay in there. Don't come near me anymore." He nodded and moved back into the bedroom. Hermione flicked her wand and the door swung closed and the latch locked.

* * *

[Present]

Ron looked at his wife, who laid with her head in his lap, eyes closed. He could feel her tense energy, her jumpiness. He placed a hand in her hair to test his theory and was not surprised when he found her to start suddenly under his touch. She relaxed after a moment, opening her dark brown eyes and looking at him. They were alight with something mischievous he hadn't seen in so long.

"What?" he murmured. He looked around the empty living room of his parent's house, the light outside growing more orange as the sun rose. He couldn't remember what had convinced him to pull his wife out of their bed only to sit them in the living room. Perhaps the idea of being in a room which would fill with light from one side as the sun rose had piqued his interest. She shook her head but continued to look at him.

"I love you," she said softly. Ron's face broke into a grin so wide he could feel it in his scalp. He scratched her head and closed his eyes. A yelp came from upstairs and Ron could feel his heart thundering suddenly in his chest as footsteps came pounding down the stairs. Hermione gripped his arm as she turned sideways and sat up. Her nails in his skin grounded him and his breathing evened. Ginny was laughing as she came sprinting down the last set of stairs, her socked feet sliding a little as she hit the floor and rocketed into the kitchen, Harry chasing her.

"Harry Potter, if you're going to propose to me you can't-" yelled Ginny as she came to stop in front of Ron and Hermione, a smile spread wide over her soft features. "do it by ourselves, in my old bedroom in my parent's house." She shook a small black box at him and laughed with mirth as he lunged across to get it and she took some steps back, just out of his reach.

Other movements could be heard in the house as Ron relaxed back into his reclined position. "Why not?" asked Ron. "That's how I proposed to Hermione."

"Exactly!" said Ginny. "Lame." He stuck his tongue out at his sister, and she back at him. Mr and Mrs Weasley came down the stairs, both wrapped in dressing gowns. Ginny instinctively pulled down the hem of the long nightshirt she wore.

"It wasn't, it was sweet," said Hermione, laughing. She tucked her feet up and curled into Ron's side as Harry leapt over the couch and caught Ginny around the waist, yanking the box from her fingers.

"What-" said Mr Weasley through a yawn. "in Merlin's name is going on down here?"

"Nearly broke the stairs with that ruckus," said Mrs Weasley as she made her slow way towards the kitchen.

"I was trying-" panted Harry, holding Ginny in one arm as he attempted to shove the ring box back into his pocket, "to propose to your daughter in private." The two Weasley parents froze in their tracks and stared at Harry. "No luck," he said, shrugging. Ginny yanked away, red hair flying.

"Fine, Mr Potter, I will marry you." said Ginny defiantly. There was a stunned silence for a moment, then Mrs Weasley started sobbing incoherently and ran towards her daughter and Harry while Ron clapped and wolf-whistled from the couch.


End file.
